The Complete Plays of J. M. Barrie - 30 Titles in One Edition. Джеймс Барри
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Название: The Complete Plays of J. M. Barrie - 30 Titles in One Edition

Автор: Джеймс Барри

Издательство: Bookwire

Жанр: Языкознание

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isbn: 9788027224012

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СКАЧАТЬ not know which I love. Tom is so poor, and Jack is ready to take me now. Besides, I have promised.

      MAUD. Then Jack has money?

      BAB. He says he has a little.

      MILLY. Only a little? Then what are you to live on?

      BAB. Oh, we have worked that out very carefully. First of all he is to sell out. Then he has a friend who wrote a novel in six weeks and got £1,000 for it. Well, Jack has much more ability than his friend, so he is to adopt novel writing as a profession, and, as £1,000 in six weeks comes to £8,666 13s. 14d. a year, we shall be quite comfortable.

      MILLY. I see you have left nothing to chance.

      BAB. No.

      ROSE. Where are you and Jack to meet?

      BAB. All day I have been expecting a note to say if I am to meet him in the garden or on the tow path.

      MISS SIMS and JANE ANNIE come up the stairs listening.

      MEG. H’st!

      BAB (softly). Girls, we are watched! I must deceive the eavesdroppers. (Aloud.) Girls, this is my secret about which you have asked me.

      ALL. Ahem! Ahem!

      SONG. — BAB.

       Bright-eyed Bab I used to be,

       Now these eyes are lead;

       Languor has come over me,

       Hangs my little head.

       Now my figure — once like this —

       Droops like autumn berry;

       Pity me, my secret is,

       Me is sleepy very!

      ENSEMBLE.

      MISS SIMS and GIRLS. JANE ANNIE.

       See her little drowsy head, Does her naughty little head

       Droops like autumn berry; Droop like autumn berry?

       Says she wants to go to bed, Says she wants to go to bed,

       She is sleepy, very! But I add a query?

      BAB. Simple Bab is charged with art,

       Watched by cruel parties;

       Palpitates her ‘ittle heart,

       ‘Is where ‘ittle heart is!

       Something Bab has planned to do,

       Something will not keep;

       Bab’s a drowsy girlie who

       Has planned to — go to sleep.

      ENSEMBLE.

      MISS SIMS and GIRLS. JANE ANNIE.

       Such a guileless little head Though she be a drowsy head,

       Secret could not keep; That is rather steep;

       Tuck her in her cosy bed, Tho’ we tucked her up in bed,

       And she’ll go to sleep. Would she go to sleep?

       Exeunt GIRLS slowly to refrain of “Goodnight, Goodnight!”

      MISS S. (to JANE ANNIE). This explanation of Bab’s seems quite satisfactory.

      JANE A. Hum!

      MISS S. Bab, to bed.

      BAB. Can’t I stay up for a little, Miss Sims, to entertain your guests?

      MISS S. Insolence! I shall see you to your room.

      BAB. I can hear them coming upstairs.

      JANE A. Do tell me who they are. I am not curious. I only want to know.

      MISS S. They are the Proctor and his Bulldogs.

       Exeunt MISS SIMS, BAB, and JANE ANNIE.

       Enter PROCTOR and BULLDOGS.

      RECITATIVE. — PROCTOR.

       There was a time when we were not,

       The name that this dark period got

       Was Chaos.

       It lay as ‘neath a ban,

       Merely containing animals, vegetables, minerals,

       Woman and the like, and man.

       Said Nature, “I’ve no Proctor,”

       This strange omission shocked her.

       Too long she felt she’d waited;

       She now enlarged her plan.

       We Proctors were created,

       And then the world began.

      SONG. — PROCTOR.

       I’ll tell to you what ‘tis we do,

       We stalk the undergrad.

       When he perceives our velvet sleeves,

       He runs away like mad.

       Then follow we by deputy,

       These men I now describe;

       My bulldogs sound pull him to ground,

       They never take a bribe.

       In vain he tries to dodge their eyes,

       Of all his haunts they’ve knowledge;

       And soon I make our quarry quake

       By crying, “Name and college!”

      ALL. Name and college! Name and college!

      PROCTOR. Caged lions may forget they’re tame,

       The wife forget her baby’s name,

       The trampled worm forget to turn,

       The Scot to think of Bannockburn,

       One poet in a score forget

       The laureateship is open yet,

       But none who of its gist have knowledge

       Can e’er forget my “Name and college.”

       In after years I fill with fears

       All who’ve been undergrads;

       The Cabinet, the Laureate,

       СКАЧАТЬ